


i'm crooked but upright

by Mr_Morningstar



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: 2020 L'Manberg Election on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Confusion, Gen, Jschlatt is Okay, Kinda, Mentioned Alexis | Quackity, Mentioned Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Sheep Hybrid Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Swearing, Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are not Exiled, Wilbur and Jschlatt used to be good friends, more like 'i'm dropping hints', no beta we die like Mexican dream, read the notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:49:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29019981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mr_Morningstar/pseuds/Mr_Morningstar
Summary: Wilbur’s hands fiddle with the fabric – it’s foreign, almost wrong – how close the thin line of a red tie hugs his neck. Suffocating. Almost noose-like.“Jeez, Soot, you’re almost as bad as Quackity.”orJSchlatt: might fuck around and make Wilbur secretary of stateQuackity: weird flex but okay
Relationships: Jschlatt & Wilbur Soot
Kudos: 28





	i'm crooked but upright

**Author's Note:**

> (gets real close to the mic) one day i woke up and chose violence, meaning i'm craving more interactions between schlatt and wilbur in dream smp because i love them bastards so i might write a bunch of texts for this au where schlatt said fuck it isn't it more interesting politically to keep wilbur close OR DID HE REALLY HMMMM
> 
> TW: slight (?) dissociation or green blob influence - just in case
> 
> title from 'glass animals - toes'

Wilbur’s hands fiddle with the fabric – it’s foreign, almost wrong – how close the thin line of a red tie hugs his neck. Suffocating. Almost noose-like.

“Jeez, Soot, you’re almost as bad as Quackity,” the air flares up, but Wilbur doesn’t flinch, doesn’t tear his eyes away from the mirror as Schlatt’s figure enters the frame, “You’re supposed to be good at this shit.”

_Is he now?_ Wilbur lets Schlatt untie and slip his tie right under the collar of the shirt silently. It’s funny – one, two, three practiced movements – funny how the room still seems to get only smaller and smaller.

“You’ve been real fucking quiet this past hour, now what’s up with that, Wilbur?”

He would normally roll his eyes, say something, bite back. Bicker and barter – like they used to.

But Schlatt’s hand stays firm on his shoulder – fingers getting darker on the tips – like a promise. Burning into his skin ever so slightly through the new three-piece suit.

The reflection in the mirror blurs a bit on the edge too, melting the harder he tries to focus on it. The green line twisting around his neck lazily – wasn’t it _red_?

He hums, disoriented. Breath getting shorter – ram’s horns keep spiraling further and further. Threatening to get closer, to pierce his eyes.

“You should be a bit more fucking grateful your ass isn’t only staying in L’Manburg,” Wilbur blinks startled as Schlatt tugs him away, the perspective spinning – the haze slipping off, getting thinner.

He hears a murmur offhandedly, like a wave coming from afar “what’s the fucking deal with that ‘L’ anyways, should probably get rid of that next…” before the tide hits him so much closer, “But you also get a position of power! Well, more or less. Anyways, lover boy, stop acting like it’s the end of your political career or someone’s died already. It’s the new beginning! Cut off that one man pity party.”

Schlatt doesn’t stop, doesn’t give him enough time to recover, to catch his breath before opening the doors to the corridor – ‘the new era’. The lights almost blind him for a second – everything seems so much more vibrant, more tangible – real.

“What in the actual fuck, Schl-” Wilbur starts whole-heartedly, his voice hoarse and tense. Scandalized almost. Present.

The question hangs in the air – like it’s addressing something else, something bigger – but the President only laughs. Low and slightly crackling. And Wilbur knows that laugh – feels the adrenaline rush through his body like some sort of a Pavlovian response.

It doesn’t bring anything good with it. Nor for him – ~~them~~ – usually.

“C’mon, Wilbur” he tucks the loose tie under the vest swiftly,

– it’s red, red, _red_ –

“Let’s put a little fun in funeral.”

Wilbur can't really help it – he chuckles.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are appreciated. english isn't my first language, so feel free to correct me in case :v  
> i'm planning on writing some more - like the initial reaction after schlatt's speech (remix), etc.  
> my twitter is @/starindisaster if you'd like to chat or vibe (i rt art a lot, live tweet streams sometimes and post walmart cosplay)


End file.
